


just getting started.

by cl3rks



Series: x marks the spot [9]
Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Working Hard, thigh riding, this could be better lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: He's not to be disturbed, but maybe just this once... he doesn't mind.





	just getting started.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao this is dirty but could be Better

He’s working hard, his fingers splayed across the keyboard of his laptop as he types at lightning speed, pausing only for a moment every so often so gather his thoughts. He never hits backspace, never needs to. He’s so precise and calculated and it doesn’t take you long to realize his fingers are hitting the keys a bit harder than they usually do and his shoulders are squared and big and he’s visibly _tense_ and you furrow your brows.

You stand there in one of his shirts leaning against the doorway, heat pooling between your legs and you just need a _little_ push to orgasm, but he’s not paying attention to you and your hands just aren’t doing it tonight and you’ve left your panties in the bedroom in preparation. You’re hesitant at first to approach him because he’s so focused and any disturbance just screws with him.

“Donnie?” You whisper softly, fingers dancing along the wood of the doorway. “Could you let that go for a few minutes?”

He didn’t reply, only held up his cybernetic hand with his index finger extended. You sighed, stepping forward. His tank top is pulled tight along his tense muscles and his sweatpants are wrinkled and creased from his constant shifting. You make your decision as to how you’re going to get your relief, a slight smirk tugging at your lips as you reach him. Your hands slowly go to his shoulders, pulling at the muscles and bunching the black tank top beneath your hands. You force him to roll his shoulders by doing this, noticing the muscles loosen ever so slightly.

You don’t say anything as you walk around him, his skin is so hot when you straddle his thigh, like, burning hot but it isn’t uncomfortable. It matches the heat of your aching pussy. The leg of his sweatpants feels like heaven against you, the friction of the material makes you moan. 

When you begin moving up and down his thigh, you hear his typing falter for barely a second – if you hadn’t been looking or listening for a reaction, you would’ve missed it.  


_You hope he can feel your wetness through his pants._  


Your eyes are trained on his face and his eyes are trained on his screen. You can hear the faint whir of his cybernetic-hand and you smile to yourself, letting a moan slip past your lips as you put your right hand on his knee behind you, under the desk. You use your left hand to grab his bicep, his typing continuing as you grind down on the muscular limb.  


“Donnie,” You whisper, your voice heavy with want and need and _fuck_ to the fullest degree. “Please, please –”  


Your pussy feels so hot against his leg and you know you’re just getting started but, holy shit– anything will push you over. You’re gasping from the friction in no time, feeling the drenched leg of his sweatpants pushing against you as you ride his muscular thigh, squeezing his bicep and knee and throwing your head back for a moment. You continue bucking your hips, drawing them back along the material and limb, you move like you're riding him, you move slow then fast and switch in between and just to test it, you grind down on him for some more pressure. You moan, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. "Oh, fuck."   


He’s still typing, you can hear him, and you make the softest sound as you cum, your eyes fluttering shut at the relief. 

You clench around nothing, opening your eyes for just a moment and you see his blue eyes staring at you. He’s stopped typing, his gaze as intense as ever and for a second you think you’ve angered him, for a second you’re just the slightest bit worried as you go to push off his thigh but suddenly his cybernetic hand is around your throat. He’s not squeezing, he’s just gently telling you to stay put. 

“Done working?” You whisper, watching him. The sharpness of his eyes causes you to almost look away.

Donald shakes his head, his drawl present as he speaks lowly. “Think I’m just gettin’ started, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> thigh riding wrecks my soul oml


End file.
